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<title>Amy Santiago's First-Aid binder (Specifically Chapters 46 thru 48) by definitelynotmoritzstiefel</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877218">Amy Santiago's First-Aid binder (Specifically Chapters 46 thru 48)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotmoritzstiefel/pseuds/definitelynotmoritzstiefel'>definitelynotmoritzstiefel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, Captain Holt is Jake's father figure, Charles Boyle &amp; Jake Peralta Friendship, Concussions, Established Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, F/M, Hurt Jake Peralta, Jake Peralta Has ADHD, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago Fluff, Jake gets hurried and everyone is worried, Protective Amy Santiago, Ray Holt Acting as Jake Peralta's Parental Figure, mission, tw mentions of vomit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:21:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877218</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelynotmoritzstiefel/pseuds/definitelynotmoritzstiefel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, actually, she was doing well. She was keeping the victim awake and talking throughout all of this. She was keeping pressure on the head wound. She was keeping his airway clean. She had asked if he remembered what happened (no),  how old he was (30-something), if he knew who the president was (“Fucking hell, I don’t even want to remember”) and what his name was.</p>
<p>What the binder didn’t prepare her for, was the panic she would feel when the answer to that last question is Jake Peralta."</p>
<p>Or: Jake gets injured on a mission, Amy is freaking out, Charles is freaking out even harder, and Captain Holt is being Jake's father figure, as usual.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Amy Santiago's First-Aid binder (Specifically Chapters 46 thru 48)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! This is my first Brooklyn 99 fic, so let me know what you think!</p>
<p>(ACAB. These characters are fictional. I do not support the police system in real life.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, babe, take another sip of water, okay?”<br/>Jake pulled back against Amy’s grip, his lips pressed together in a thin line as she lifted the water bottle.<br/>“Jake, please...”<br/>“Jeez, Ames, I know you want me to be healthier, but forcing water down my throat is really taking it to the next level,” he tried to joke, but there was no annoying – even faked –  self-confidence behind his hoarse voice.<br/>Amy sighed. Jake looked terribly pale in her arms, slumped over against her chest. His shallow breaths did nothing but make her chest tighten with worry with every rattling cough. <br/><br/>The moment the big metal bar had come swinging from the ceiling, Amy had known that this wasn’t going to end well. It took her less than two seconds to rush over to her boyfriend on the ground, and less than five to notice the thick blood slowly coating the back of his head as she feverishly tapped his cheek to wake him up.<br/><br/>That was around 30 minutes ago. The perp had managed to escape the building in the midst of the commotion Jake’s injuries had caused, which took them a few minutes to realize since everyone was huddled around Jake on the floor. Jake had – and thank god for that – painfully and confusedly blinked his eyes after a very scary 45 seconds, and had been getting nothing but worse since.<br/><br/>Which is how they ended up in this position; Amy sitting against the wall, Jake between her legs, leaning against her chest, on the dirty floor of an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, Sarge’s shirt firmly bound to the back of his head. There was less blood now – no, not less blood, but less <em>new</em> blood at least. Amy was trying to remember every single sentence printed in her First-Aid binder, which she was actually succeeding at quite well. The patient needed quiet and dark. Quiet they could manage; she already told everyone to go wait downstairs. She could handle this on her own. Dark, however, was nearly impossible with the wide open windows of the warehouse. Besides, on page 112 of the binder, under the section “47.7.3 Concussion with head wound” it said that the victim should not close their eyes. In other words, dark could wait.<br/>So, actually, she was doing well. She was keeping the victim awake and talking throughout all of this. She was keeping pressure on the head wound. She was keeping his airway clean. She had asked if he remembered what happened (no),  how old he was (30-something), if he knew who the president was (“Fucking hell, I don’t even want to remember”) and what his name was.<br/>What the binder didn’t prepare her for, was the panic she would feel when the answer to that last question is Jake Peralta.<br/><br/>“Jakey, the ambulance is on its way, but we’re in a pretty remote area, so it might take a bit of time before –” Charles stopped as he saw Jake in Amy’s arms, folding his hand over his mouth. “Oh no. Is it getting worse? It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” There was panic in his voice. “I can call them again to tell them to hurry! I already told them this is about my best friend, the one and only Jake Peral –”<br/>“Charles,” Jake interrupted with his hand stretched out and a weak smile, “I’m sure they’re hurrying. Thanks for calling.”<br/>Charles didn’t say anything for a second, but then nodded. “Okay... I suppose... I will.... wait for them outside. So they know where to go.” He slowly turned, making his way towards the door.<br/>“Hey, buddy?” Jake said and his voice almost sounded chipper as usual.<br/>Boyle turned around with a frankly impressive speed. “Yes?”<br/>“Thanks for being such a good best friend.”<br/>“Oh, Jakey...” The expression on Charles’ face went from surprised, to happy, to sad, to surprised again, before he half-shouted: “Can we get that on camera? Guys! Does anyone have a –”<br/>“Charles, not now,” Amy mouthed, but there was a fondness in her voice. “I think Jake needs some quiet.”<br/>“Oh,” Charles started, “right! Later? Let’s – let’s do it at the hospital?” He had his thumbs extended towards the door.<br/>“Yeah, buddy, let’s do that,” Jake replied with a weak thumbs up. His voice sounded somehow weaker than before, though his happy facade had not fully cracked yet. <br/>Charles nodded excitedly and quickly left the room, as Jake added a louder: “Get your camera ready before I forget my mind!” <br/>The sound of his own voice was enough to make him wince.<br/><br/>For a moment, they were finally alone. Jake relaxed his tense shoulders against Amy’s chest, as she whispered small words of comfort to him, her right hand tangled in his bloody hair.<br/>“My ears are ringing,” Jake groaned.<br/>“Ambulance is coming, babe, keep your eyes open.”<br/>“It hurts a lot, Ames," he mumbled, breaking Amy's heart in the process. "I didn't want to say that in front of Charles because he would die of fear, but it really hurts and I'm tired. Can’t we close some blinds?”<br/>Amy looked at the big glas-less windows of the building. “Unfortunately not, babe. Sorry. You need to keep talking to me, okay?”<br/>“Ugh..” Jake buried his face in Amy’s jacket.<br/>“Jake Peralta, I swear to god, if you close your eyes, I will burn your ‘Die Hard’ DVD.”<br/>Jake smirked at how firm Amy sounded. “Unfortunately for you, Santiago, I have a back-up somewhere in my apartment that you are never ever finding, so good lu –”<br/>“It’s in your drawer next to the condoms. Try again.”<br/>“What? How the hell do you know that?” he half-whispered, half-shouted.<br/>“I’m the only one who has ever cleaned your apartment. That’s how.”<br/>Jake could only imagine how smug Amy looked right now. His vision, however, was swimming. <br/>“Touchy,” he mumbled, swallowing roughly.<br/>“It is pronounced ‘touché’, Peralta,” a familiar voice announced. <br/><br/>“Captain!” Amy sputtered. She quickly pulled her hand out of Jake’s hair, making him wince at the sudden movement. “Sorry!” she whispered.<br/>“Forgive me for looking so rattled,” Captain Holt then said, looking exactly the same as he always had, “but I have to admit that my personal feelings are getting in the way of my professionalism at the moment. I was feeling... anxious about Detective Peralta’s current state and, hence, decided the only way to regain my composure was to check in on you both. I hope that is okay.”<br/>“So what <em>I’m</em> hearing is that you’re worried about me,” Jake said with a grin.<br/>“I think worry would be the correct term, yes,” Captain Holt replied. “How are you holding up, Detective? Is the head trauma causing you excessive discomfort, as expected?”<br/>Jake grinned. “I wouldn’t use the word excessive even if I wasn’t seeing stars right now.”<br/>Captain Holt nodded. “Of course, excuse my unprofessionalism. Is there anything I could do to help until the medical staff arrives? Perhaps... bring you a clean bucket? I heard that Detective Peralta has arrived at the nauseous stage of the concussion, and is – as Detective Diaz put it – ‘<em>puking his guts out</em>’.”<br/>Amy cringed at the mention. “Yes, page 114, chapter 48 of the First-Aid binder. He was – uh – ‘<em>puking his guts out</em>’ until a couple of minutes ago, which is why I’m concerned at the lack of fluid he’s keeping in.”<br/>Jake looked up at her, pale as a sheet. “Hey, Amy, it’s fine, okay?” he said. “I just have a bit of a headache and drinking anything will only make me feel worse."<br/>“Detective Santiago is right,” Captain Holt said flatly as he stepped further into the room. “Being hydrated is an essential component of any sort of recovery. I say, the faster we start that recovery for you, the better. Furthermore, dry heaving can have negative effects on the body. I wouldn’t want one of my best detectives pulling a muscle.”<br/>“Yeah, imagine pulling a muscle,” Jake mumbled sarcastically, touching the back of his head tentatively with his palm, which came back red.<br/>“In conclusion,” Captain Holt continued – though Jake wasn’t sure if ‘continued’ would be the right word if you weren’t listening to half of what someone said – “I advise you to drink some water.”<br/>Jake grimaced, expecting an “I told you so!” from Amy, but instead, he got a soft “You see, babe? Please just take a sip.”<br/><br/>Shit, she really was worried. Jake swallowed hard. His heart couldn’t take that. <br/><br/>His pounding head and aching body, however, couldn’t take anything going in right now, let alone what would come after. On top of that, the white spots in his vision made it especially hard to focus – more so than usually.<br/>He hadn't heard himself sound so apologetic in a while. “Babe, I’m sorry. I – I don’t think I can –”<br/>“I apologize for interrupting,” Captain Holt said suddenly, “but I was prepared for your refutation, given your well-known dislike of water.”<br/>“I’m working on it,” Jake mumbled, looking up at Amy, who mouthed a quick “Proud of you!”, making him smile despite the pain.<br/>“Which is why,” Captain Holt added, reaching into his coat pocket, “I got you a ‘Gatorade: Thirst quencher’ in the flavour ‘orange’ at the bodega down the street. It says here on the bottle that it is ‘naturally flavoured with other natural flavours’, which sounded exactly like something you would enjoy.”<br/>Jake was speechless, looking at the small, unnaturally orange bottle.<br/>“It is an orange soda, if you will,” Captain Holt continued as he walked over and handed Amy the bottle. “It is a...liquid, or so it appears, which is exactly what you need right now. I thought it might make you feel... less miserable until we can get you proper help.”<br/>“Sir... ” Jake said, unable to think of a joke for once, though he wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that his brain felt like mush, or because he was trying very hard not to tear up for some reason. “Thank you... Captain, you... you didn’t have to.”<br/>“Nonsense,” Captain Holt replied. “I take care of my squad.”<br/>Jake blinked away the burning sensation behind his eyes and nodded, which made his head hurt more.<br/>“Thank you, sir,” Amy said softly. <br/>Captain Holt waved it away. “Kevin told me to remind you to take ‘small sips’. I believe this is to ensure that your stomach doesn’t reject the liquid right away.”<br/>Jake couldn’t bring himself to say anything, so Amy spoke up. “Will do, sir.”<br/>Captain Holt nodded. “The ambulance will be here soon. Until then, I will wait downstairs and console Detective Boyle.” He paused. “Did he say something about a... video camera?”<br/>Jake chuckled. “Yeah, I didn’t think he was going to latch onto that so strongly...” His head throbbed and he pressed a careful hand to his forehead, leaving a little blood stain. “God, that hurts.” <br/>“Don't touch it,” Amy whispered in his hair, bringing her hand up to rub across his back. <br/>“I will leave you two now,” Captain Holt said.<br/>“One more thing!” Jake sputtered.<br/>Holt turned. “Yes?”<br/>“The perp... he got away?” <br/>Jake clearly didn’t have a lot of power left in his body to continue talking for long, and Holt knew that too. Holt, just like Amy, also knew that this was about the 5<sup>th</sup> time that Jake had asked this, which was concerning, but – considering his current state – not abnormal. <br/>“Absolutely not. Terry and Rosa are onto that punk.” <br/>He waited, then added: “With helmets.”<br/>Jake smiled and shifted painfully, a groan escaping his lips. Amy held onto him tighter. <br/>“Thank you for the Gatorade, Captain,” he then said. <br/><br/>Captain Holt shook his head and looked at them, together on the dirty warehouse floor, and for a moment Amy swore she could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes. <br/><br/>A flicker of guilt.<br/><br/>He opened his mouth before reconsidering. “It is the least I can do,” he then spoke, his voice wavering just a little bit. “I am sorry this happened to you, Peralta. I believe it to be due to my misjudgement. I assumed that this would be a more... low-profile case, requiring more low-profile gear. I was wrong.”<br/>“It’s not your fault, sir –” Amy started.<br/>“It most certainly is, Santiago. I endangered Detective Peralta and, therefore, the entire 99. This could have happened to anyone and, more importantly, it could have been avoided. I apologize.”<br/>Jake sighed. “Captain, it’s fine, I’m not that hurt –”<br/>“Oh, yes you are, Peralta. You have a second grade concussion at <em>least</em>. Not to mention the blood loss due to the giant head wound, and the possible internal damage from a fall like that. Let alone all of the prolonging effects we don’t yet know about. You were lucky that our entire squad was present to rush to your side immediately as it happened. It is injuries like these that end careers –”<br/>“Sir!” Amy’s voice was urgent. “Enough!”<br/>Captain Holt stopped himself, taking a look at Jake for the first time since he started talking. He looked... frightened, to say the least. <br/>Leave it to Amy to disrespect her Captain to keep Jake Peralta calm.<br/>“Excuse me, I got carried away. What I <em>meant</em> to say, Detective Peralta, is that you will be okay. And I apologize.”<br/>“Apology accepted, sir,” Jake said while pushing himself up with trembling arms. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, page 114 of the First-Aid binder is about to make a re-appearance.”<br/>“Oh god, okay,” Amy said hurriedly, putting away the Gatorade and pulling up the bucket. “Here's the bucket - breahte, babe!" Cursing under her breath, she added: "I <em>hate</em> chapter 48!"<br/>Captain Holt nodded knowingly. “I will give you your privacy. Santiago?”<br/>Amy looked up from where she was trying to calm down Jake. “Captain?” she said, sounding anxious, still a bit thrown aback by her own reaction just a few moments earlier.<br/>“Take good care of Jacob. That is a direct order.”<br/>She nodded quickly. “Always, sir.”<br/>He turned to leave, but was held back by Jake’s hoarse voice.<br/>“Thanks, dad.” Jake swallowed and managed to smile. “For caring about me.”<br/>He turned back. “Of course. I think I speak for the entire squad when I say that we all care about you deeply. As you deserve.” He smiled. “Good job today. I’m proud of you, son. You’ll be alright.”<br/>Jake gasped quietly, a distinct wetness filling his eyes, leaving Captain Holt puzzled. <br/>His voice was high. “Really?”<br/>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you – ” he started, but he was quickly cut off by Amy.<br/>“No, sir, these are happy tears,” she said, quickly wiping them from her boyfriend’s cheeks with her thumb. “Right, babe?”<br/>“Happy tears...?” Holt said hesitantly. <br/>Jake was looking incredibly pale, but he was smiling. “Captain dad is proud of me, Ames! He’s proud of – oh, shit, chapter 48 – Ames?”<br/>“Oh god, grab the bucket! Alright, and my hand –  There you go, babe – ugh, gross –”<br/><br/>As Captain Holt quickly turned and left them alone, he could faintly hear Jake’s voice in the hallway (“Holt is proud of me! He’s never said that before! Amy did you hear that? Captain Holt is proud of me – wait – he’s never said that before. Does that mean I’m dying? No? You’re sure? Okay, thanks, babe, I love you”) followed by the sound of what he could only assume was a mix of ‘happy tears’, a really bad concussion, and Amy's blatant dislike of a certain section of a certain binder.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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